Page 37 of Broken Rules

I had seen him pull this shit more times than I could count, but he had never done it to me.Dad was never stupid enough to pull me into his schemes for free publicity.Whenever he thought a project wasn’t going to make bank, he would arrange something with one of his favorite sleezebag photographers.Stir up a little drama, get people talking about whatever celebrity he was determined to shove down the public’s collective throat.

I quit pacing behind my desk, seething, the anger burning a hole in me.This was a waste of time.If I were going to put an end to this, I’d have to go straight to the source.It was time for the talk that had been coming up on the horizon for much too long.

His assistant answered on the first ring.“Is he in?”I barked.Fuck wasting time on pleasantries.

“He is,” she said.“Should I have him?—”

“I’ll be right there.”The receiver slammed into the cradle while I imagined all the many creative ways to make him pay for this.Would he bother pretending he had nothing to do with it?My feet pounded the floor, but it was nothing compared to the way my heart slammed against my ribs as I stalked down the hall, passing offices where staff greeted me as I passed.I didn’t have it in me to put on the happy boss act this afternoon.Not while plotting Dad’s murder.

I walked in on the tail end of him popping a couple of antacids and washing them down with what looked like milk.“Swallowing all of your own lies finally started eating away at your esophagus, huh?”I asked, closing the door.

“Excuse me?”He folded his hands on the desk, looking amused.“What did I do to deserve that?”

“You had one of your photographers catch a completely innocent conversation between Danica and me yesterday,” I gritted out.It was almost impossible to keep my shit together when he looked at me the way he did.Just another irritating complication.“How about that?”

“Oh, please.”He waved a hand, snorting.“Grow up.If anything, it wouldn’t hurt to paint you as the kind of man a woman like that wants to fuck.”

What was worse?His casual crudeness or the fact he thought I needed help in that area?“I’m in a position of power over her,” I reminded him.“I’m producing her next movie.You’re making me look like the kind of prick who takes advantage of that if it means getting my dick wet.”

“Like you’ve never dipped your wick into the wrong woman.”He rolled his eyes, releasing a weary sigh.“This conversation is boring me and wasting my time.What is your point?”

He wanted to throw off the gloves?I could play that way too.Reaching his desk, I placed my hands on the surface and leaned in.“My point is, I’ve had enough of your bullshit tampering with my film and my cast.We have six weeks until the premiere.Can you handle keeping your meddling ass out of it for the next six weeks?”

There he sat, framed by the awards and photos hanging on the wall behind him.The king on his throne, wearing the sort of snide expression one expected from a monarch.I could’ve ripped his throat out, and not only because of today.I had more than thirty years of his bullshit under my belt.

“Are you finished?”he asked, unimpressed.“I would like to get down to business if you’ve finished throwing your tantrum.I’ve seen the rushes,” he continued while I vibrated with rage.Pushing back from the desk and standing, he added, “I can’t say I’m surprised that the changes I requested haven’t been taken into account.”

So typical.I knew this was coming.I had known for weeks.He was bound to get on my case before long once he knew I had disregarded his requests.His timing was a little transparent but unsurprising.Anything to change the subject.

“Considering we’re reaching the end of principal photography…” he continued, “… that tells me you weren’t planning on implementing any of them.Tell me I’m wrong.Tell me you’ve seen logic and reason.”

“Dad, I can’t see why you refuse to trust me.”My body temperature jumped up close to the boiling point when he chose to laugh snidely.“Now, wait a second, dammit,” I grunted out when he was about to turn away, making his eyes widen.“My entire life, you’ve been feeding me shit about my instincts.How good they are.How I could predict a hit by reading the script.Remember?I was eighteen years old.You brought me in as a script reader for my first internship.”

“So you know a good script when you see one.”He sighed.“The fact that you think the job begins and ends there tells me you’re not ready for this yet.”

“It was an example.”I snarled.“I know damn well what makes a good movie.The difference between a hit and a flop.I know what people want to see and how they want to feel when they see it.Do you know who else does?”

Chuckling, he replied, “Let me guess.Summer Strawbridge, the next big thing.God’s gift to plucky directors everywhere.”

He then made a jerking-off motion with his hand that left me with no choice but to sink my short nails into my palms until I was close to breaking the skin.The man had no fucking right.He didn’t know her and would never take the time to know her, to understand the first goddamn thing about her—who she was, how she thought, what made her tick.

Meeting her parents last week had taken me a long way toward understanding her.The more I knew, the more I liked her.And he had the nerve to stand there and act like a disrespectful prick because that was who he was.That was who he had always been, no matter how he pretended otherwise.The only difference between him and a man like Clyde Harris was Clyde refused to hide his true nature.

“I know what I’m doing.”Staring straight into his sneering face, I growled out, “Now back off.”

“I’m supposed to back off when we both know how crucial this is?I’m supposed to ignore the problems you’re creating?”

“Maybe if you would get out of the way, there wouldn’t be any problems,” I countered.“Though I know with an ego of your size, it can take some time to get it in motion.”

He surprised me by laughing, dropping into his chair again, and tilting it back.“That’s right.Continue biting the hand that feeds you.”

“Continue acting like you’re the hand that feeds me, which we both know isn’t true.Granddad’s trust made sure of that.”I couldn’t say many good things about the old man.He was a member of the so-called old school, and rumor had it he had fallen back on the mafia more than once to fund films when times were tough at the studio.But he had put a sizable chunk of money aside for me when I was born, so much that I didn’t need to rely on Dad or anyone else.

“Why do you insist on learning things the hard way?Don’t you understand?”He sighed again, rubbing his silver temples, and for the first time, I realized how old he was.It was one thing to know a number and what that number meant.It was another to see it written all over somebody’s face.His jowls sagged, andthe lines around his eyes were deeper than I remembered.Had he lost weight?It must’ve happened while he was away, those weeks he spent in Miami and New York when we first started filming.I wasn’t exactly going out of my way to spend time with him and had even deliberately avoided him more than once.

“Dad… is there something you need to tell me?”We didn’t exactly have anything close to a heart-to-heart.We rarely ever shared anything real, come to think of it.Our common language had always revolved around work—the studio, projections, box office numbers—that was all that mattered.

Now, I was looking at a man I hadn’t bothered truly trying to see in years, maybe decades.The human being behind the name.The man sucking down Tums and milk at his desk.

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